


Luke's showing off again

by CopperTones



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, Skater boy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2947601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperTones/pseuds/CopperTones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little skater boy Luke/Michael AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luke's showing off again

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank the amazing Nina (loafers) for beta reading this for me about four times! Much love!

“Nice stack, loser!” Michael practically catcalls from his perch on an old broken down piece of factory equipment. It looks like it might have been a tractor in a previous life but now it’s covered in graffiti and plonked straight in the middle of an abandoned factory building. Michael thinks it used to be a car manufacturers but nowadays is only frequented by skate rats and hooligans on dizzy Saturday nights. Skate rats and hooligans like Michael and Luke.

“Shut up you asshole!” Luke hauls himself up off the hard concrete, wincing as he puts pressure on the knee he just wiped out on and goes off in search of his runaway board, wiping his bloody palms on his jeans. 

They’ve been coming here since they were kids, Luke on his battered skateboard, Michael loping along beside him, scrawling profanities on every surface they could find and breaking windows until the floor was a sea of shiny broken glass. 

“Dude, do you think Anna Mayer is hot?” Michael's talking to the air until Luke comes rolling back into frame, stopping short at his perch and peering up at him. 

“Anna Mayer from 2nd period English? With the tits?” Luke makes the universal sign for big tits against his own lanky frame. Michael nods at the tits reference and begins busying himself with rolling a cigarette.

“Wait, how the fuck should I know if she’s in your English class?” Michael shoots back when his brain catches up. He’s jittery tonight, his hands shaking a little as he lines up the paper and adds in a thick line of tobacco. 

“It’s your English class too you idiot! You’d know if you actually went sometimes.” With a roll of his eyes Luke makes a lazy lap of the broken down equipment, dodging the cracks in the concrete and sunken potholes. “And yeah, she’s hot.”

“Damn it! Why can’t I get this to roll? Lukey? Help.” Michael sees Luke stop and sigh at the sound of his needy whine, grinning to himself as Luke flips his board up into his hand and trudges over to Michael’s perch. He pouts down at him and holds out the half rolled cigarette, trying to look pitiful. “Please, you’re the only one who gets it just right.” 

Luke’s exaggerated eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed by Michael, neither does the little smile playing on his lips and Michael’s grin can only get wider as Luke’s board clatters to the ground and the blond hauls himself upward.

Michael’s eyes flick to Luke’s biceps immediately, watching as they pull under taut skin, licking his lips at Luke’s strained muscles as they slip over his ribcage. Michael’s so focused he’s startled when Luke’s head pops up between his legs followed by the rest of his never ending torso. Luke’s eyes are shining bright with humor as he smirks, letting his hip rest against Michael’s bent knee, and holding onto Michael's hips while he sorts out his footing, balancing on the rusted out piece of equipment. 

“You enjoying the view, Clifford?” He takes the mangled rollo from Michael’s hands and begins trying to salvage it.

“Hmm. I’ve seen better.” Luke jostles him with his shoulder, almost losing his balance, but Michael's warm hands grip his waist tightly and his spindly legs wrap snugly around his hips. “Jesus babe! If you let me finish I was gonna say, I’ve seen better but only in porn.” He stretches up to brush his lips to Luke’s neck and feels Luke shiver beneath them. 

“Dude, back up I can’t see what I’m doing.” 

Michael obeys but doesn’t miss the little sigh that escapes Luke’s lips as he works his hand under the fabric of Luke’s tank, fingers brushing across the warm skin there. Luke’s eyes flick up to meet Michael’s as he licks the edge of the paper pointedly and winks when Michael’s mouth drops open slightly. He’s on him so fast Michael practically tastes Luke’s squeak of surprise on his tongue, which just makes Michael groan into his mouth. Their hands are everywhere on each other, knotted in hair and balled up in the front of shirts, pulling each other closer, always closer. Michael’s hand travels back to Luke’s hip, his fingers brushing softly over the warm skin of his hipbone making Luke shudder as they come up for air. 

“Well at least I got in there before you taste like an ashtray,” Luke says, panting slightly. He hands over the perfectly rolled cigarette. 

“Shut up, you love it,” Michael says with a smirk as he sparks his lighter. Michael knows Luke actually does, not that he’d ever admit it. Well, there was that one time Luke got drunk off of three beers in a shithole very similar to this one, blurting out that the sting of ash left on Michael’s tongue after a cigarette makes him taste like a very pretty, badass boy. He actually said ‘sting of ash’ and called Michael a ‘pretty boy’ in the same sentence. Nerd. It was so cute and sincere it almost canceled out the vomit that hit Michael’s brand new Doc Marten’s in the next breath. Almost.

Luke presses a kiss to Michael’s exposed collarbone as he untangles Michael’s legs from around his hips to drop back down to the ground. “Hey when are you watching porn without me?!” He calls over his shoulder, Michael can see every inch of Luke smiling as he laughs into the empty space. 

“Probably when you’re out here working on all your fancy tricks and ripping your clothes and your hands to shreds.” Michael blows a plume of smoke into the air above himself, the smile still on his face as he gestures to Luke’s appearance with his cigarette.

“Well at least I actually ride mine.” Luke nods his head at the battered board lying beside Michael at his perch. “You planning on getting on that tonight or are you happy sitting there, looking pretty,” he asks from across the room, weaving through abandoned machinery and landing an Ollie off an old pipe. 

“You really think I look pretty?” Michael’s voice goes up a few octaves as he feigns shock, clutching his hand to his chest dramatically and almost singeing his shirt with the cigarette he’s already forgotten he’s holding. Luke gives him the finger as he whooshes past. “Now now, don’t get salty sweetie.” Michael takes another long drag and blows it up in rings towards the ceiling. 

“Fuck you Clifford!” Luke yells, pulling a 180 in the air off of a low ledge and looking very pleased with himself when he lands. 

“You’re showing off, Hemmings.” Michael yells out to him, watching the grin spread out over Luke’s face. Oh how he loves watching him flying through the air though, all arms and legs, tank billowing out behind him, showing off all of that smooth skin, tongue perpetually poking out of the side of his mouth, treetop long legs bending into his board as he lands and that persistent fire that lies behind his eyes. It makes Michael half hard just thinking about the other skills Luke Hemmings can perform with his tongue and those legs, he feels his chest flush with want for this sweet gangly boy who only knows how to be kind and make him feel special and loved. 

Michael’s smiling to himself as he sees Luke in the run-up for a kick flip, but he’s straight up howling with laughter the next moment when it seems like Luke trips over his board in midair and lands on the floor in a sprawling mess, his board tumbling down after him. He stops abruptly a moment later when he sees Luke is still on the floor, clutching his side. 

“Ow, shit, ow that really hurt.” Michael can hear him muttering and panting half way across the room.  
“Luke?” Michael’s boots slam down on the pavement as he rushes forward. “Hemmings, you alright?!” He ditches what’s left of his cigarette on the way and skids down next to him. From here he can see that Luke’s clearly in pain but he’s definitely smiling. “Jesus kid, you’re a dick!” 

Luke lets out a laugh only to have it turn into a groan as he clutches his side again. Michael lifts his shirt to inspect the damage and sees the start of a pretty impressive bruise forming just under his ribcage. 

“What do you think? Reckon I’ll live?” Luke lifts his hips to catch a glimpse of the purpling skin, eyes flicking back to Michael as he lets them drop back down. 

“Yeah, you’ll live.” Michael bends to kiss the bruise and feels Luke’s hips jerk under his mouth (now he’s used to that, but for very different reasons). 

“Ow, that hurts, you prick!” Luke hisses, pushing Michael’s head away from his midriff. 

“Well it serves you right! You scared the shit outta me.” Michael pokes his sensitive skin for good measure and Luke snatches his wrist away with a look, but the next second his eyes are playful and he strokes a thumb over the inside of Michael’s wrist. 

“Why? Did you think I’d broken my neck or something?” Luke lets his fingers trail through the purple in Michael’s fringe, gently moving it to the side, letting his fingers brush his cheek.

“Yeah and I honestly don’t think I could be with a cripple.”

“Good to know.” Luke replies, his voice flat as he lets his hand drop and begins trying to get up.

Michael leans over him, caging him in with an arm on either side of his head. “Yeah it’d break my heart too much if you couldn’t wrap those skinny legs around me while I’m pounding into you.” 

Michael’s an inch from Luke’s face now. He’s so close he can see the tiny bit of green in his right eye and feels the whoosh of air hit him when Luke breathes out a strangled, “Christ,”; reaching up to grip the back of Michael’s neck and bring their mouths together.

Michael’s tongue darts into Luke’s mouth just as he opens it, knows Luke loves it when he’s like this, all dominant and wanting, kissing him like doesn’t know how to stop and doesn’t want to know. The Michael who cups his face in his hands like he’s some precious thing while simultaneously breaking him open with his tongue. They only pull apart for air when Michael’s thumb accidentally dips into the cut on Luke’s forehead. 

“You’re bleeding, hotshot,” Michael breathes onto his face, letting his kiss pink lips pull into a sly smirk.

“Can you just be nice please, for five seconds, I’m injured here,” Luke huffs. Michael kisses the pout out of his lips, one hand on the side of his face, thumb rolling in small circles over his cheekbone. The other flat on his bare stomach, feeling Luke’s breath pool there as he breathes hard through his nose; his stomach muscles tightening under his palm as he moves his hand slowly lower. 

His fingertips brush the waistband of Luke’s underwear and just as he’s about to dip his fingers beneath it, he feels warm fingers around his wrist, holding it steady. Luke pulls back slightly and presses their foreheads together.

“Not here Mikey, amongst all the broken glass and mysterious stains, I’m not that kind of girl.”

“I don’t know about that,” Michael smirks, looking devious. Luke chuckles and shoves Michael’s hand away from his pants and attempts to sit up. Michael helps Luke up off his back and kneeling over him, lifts the hem of his Misfits shirt to wipe at the blood on Luke’s eyebrow. 

“God you’re just dying to be in a romcom aren’t you? Next you’ll take it off and rip it up into strips to bind my wounds.” Luke’s teasing but Michael knows how much he loves being taken care of, fawned over like a baby deer. Plus Michael’s given him a lovely up close view of his pale tummy, feels Luke’s fingertips softly trace down the little trail of hair, his thumb wiping over the most smooshy bit as Michael laughs. 

Michael lets his hand card into Luke’s floppy quiff before fishing around in his back pocket, pulling out a Ben 10 Band-Aid. (They’ve been living next to his lighter, oh the irony). Michael gently affixes it over the cut and is struck by a wave of affection for his sweet, lanky, giant of a boyfriend. Luke, who was equally as gentle with him when all this started, who trusted him and touched him softly, treated what they have like something precious. People are always banging on about relationships with girls but he’s never had a chick touch him as softly as Luke does or look at him as fondly as Luke does, or suck his cock as well as Luke does for that matter.

“Come on let’s go, I wanna get those damn pants off of you!” Michael goes to get up but Luke pulls him back with a firm hand. 

“In a sec, there’s something I have to do first.” Luke flashes his teeth and Michael’s confused for a moment, what could Luke have to do on the dirty floor of an old car manufacturer’s factory, that isn’t sex? Luke lifts Michael’s shirt, ducks underneath, and Michael shivers as he feels Luke take the soft skin of his smooshy tummy between his teeth before he bites a tiny mark into it.

“Ow! What the fuck!” Michael pushes him away and Luke grins up at him. “I know you like my stomach but there’s no need to fucking maim me! Jesus, you got some weird fetishes, Hemmings.” Michael lifts his shirt back up to inspect the damage and notices the distinct red of a blush rising on Luke’s exposed chest at the sight of his tiny pink bite size dents marking up Michael’s pale skin. Luke looks up at Michael and leans forward to place a kiss over the mark, his hand at the front of his jeans, failing to hide his semi. 

“I learned from the best. Come on.” 

Luke finds his board under a rusted out car shell, snatching his leather jacket off of the floor while Michael climbs back up to his perch to grab his cigarettes and his own board. Michael loops an arm around Luke’s waist as they walk through the sea of glass and presses a kiss to his neck as it crunches under foot. When they get back out into the cool night air Luke shrugs his jacket over his pimpling arms, cold now that the thrill of his crash landing has worn off. Michael throws his board down and skates into the darkness, returning every now and again to do a loop around Luke or stick his freezing hands up his shirt so he squirms and grins. For once Luke seems happy walking, letting Michael be the one to skate lazily beside him. 

They have to stop around halfway back to Luke’s so that he can roll Michael another cigarette. Michael jumps around to stay warm and puts his freezing hands on any part of Luke that’s warm. 

“Clifford, this would go a lot quicker if you stopped jumping around and just came here.” Luke lets his jacket fall open by way of invitation and Michael moves in to lift Luke’s loose tank and wrap his chilly arms around Luke’s bare waist, ducking his head in to nuzzle his icy nose against his neck, grateful not for the first time to have a boyfriend who’s taller than him. He smiles into Luke’s warm chest as he curls his arms around him and Luke rests his chin on Michael’s shoulder so he can still see what he’s doing. 

“Seriously, why don’t you just buy them premade?” Luke asks. Michael feels the rumble of Luke’s voice through his chest.

“Number one: they’re more expensive, number two they have even more bad shit in them and number three the ones you make are better.” He doesn’t have to look to know Luke’s rolling his eyes. 

“You really do think this is a romcom don’t you?” Michael can hear the smile in his voice as he moves out of the ‘Luke cave of warmth’ and sees him give the paper a final lick. 

“Straight out of my mouth and into yours.” He presents it with a flourish and the smile stays on his face even as Michael flicks his lighter and sucks in a puff. 

“What?” Michael blows a ring into Luke’s face but he’s still smiling.

“You were so cute before, running over to my rescue.” He hooks a finger in the belt loop of Michael’s jeans and pulls him closer, fingertips walking across pale flesh around to the dip at the base of his spine. He’s still got that goofy smile on his face so Michael blows another puff in his direction, this time it makes him cough.

“Yeah well I thought you’d hurt something irreplaceable there.”

“What my head?” Luke lets a finger trail over the band-aid covered cut absently.

“No, your dick.” Michael’s hand shoots out to cup Luke’s balls, squeezing and making Luke yelp. 

“Oi you cheeky fucker!” Luke shouts, but Michael’s already racing off, board in hand with Luke throwing his down to chase. He slaps Michael’s bum when he passes him, and Michael throws his own board down to follow him through the quiet suburban Sydney streets. He takes Luke’s hand when they get close enough, and Luke throws him another goofy grin, tongue between his teeth as they ride home to a warm bed where Michael does indeed get Luke’s pants off.


End file.
